


lets find a better place.

by redhoods



Series: fictober 2019. [10]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Scenting, Sharing a Bed, a few others too - Freeform, aggressive werewolf cuddling, that's gonna be a regular tag in this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: Seteth stays at the edge of the blanket, “Is there anything I should be aware of?”“Don’t run,” Felix says, tipping his head back to look up at Seteth with a sharp grin. The lack of response isn’t surprising so he shrugs, “If he comes near you, he probably just wants to smell you, so let him.” There’s not much he can say, so he adds, “No one’s ever bothered us during this, so it’ll be interesting.”





	lets find a better place.

**Author's Note:**

> fictober. sharp teeth. where felix's bark is as bad as sylvain's bite or it could be, if they weren't tethering each other. and more people think they're sleeping together.
> 
> maybe they'll finally kiss in the next one, we'll see. if you've got a request for this series, i might oblige.
> 
> felix is still trans in this series, it'll come up at some point probably.
> 
> title is from don't run our hearts around by black mountain. another teen wolf song.
> 
> as ever, this is unbeta'd.

IMPERIAL YEAR 1180  
GREAT TREE MOON  
GARREG MACH

A breeze rushes through as they leave the outer walls of Garreg Mach and Felix burrows further in Sylvain’s coat, feeling too aware of Seteth behind him as he follows Sylvain out towards the forests that surround the monastery and town.

Every so often, Sylvain stops and tips his head back, inhaling deeply.

Felix makes sure to stop when he does, staying down wind as best he can given their strange procession. The first time, Seteth nearly walks by him, but Felix flings an arm out and bars him from it, half expecting to have to explain. The moon isn’t peeking from the horizon yet, but it will be soon and this is Felix’s area of expertise. Seteth seems to be respecting that though, bowing his head in a quick nod and stepping back once more.

It’s not as bad as it could be, Felix thinks.

Seteth seems to be catching on quick, doesn’t maintain any contact with Felix that isn’t necessary and hasn't tried to ask any questions of either he or Sylvain. And he hasn’t tried to direct them any, simply observing.

They’d had to make the concession. It’s understandable really, he knows that here, he and Sylvain are students, wards of the monastery, and it’d reflect badly if the staff simply let them walk into the forest by themselves for a night, especially if something were to happen. But that’s a big if and he hopes that Seteth will understand that after tonight.

Sylvain keeps moving so Felix keeps following, like an invisible tether connects them, pulled taut between their bodies. He’s barefoot, seemingly unaware of all the rocks he’s taking them over, shirt only held together by maybe two buttons, and Seteth had raised an eyebrow at it when they’d all met at the gate but Felix had shrugged at him behind Sylvain. He’s gotten used to all of this by now, Sylvain’s quiet introversion in the hours before the moon rises and his lack of need for clothing really.

If they were in Gautier or Fraldarius, he thinks Sylvain would already be naked, but they also wouldn’t have to be crossing this much ground.

Suddenly, in a thick copse of trees, Sylvain stops, turns to them.

His eyes reflect light back and Seteth makes a low sound, not surprise really, but more intrigue.

“Almost time,” Felix says and Sylvain nods. 

Felix nods and pulls one of the blankets out of his bag, drapes it on the ground and sits, while Sylvain prowls around the area, likely marking out a perimeter with his fingers on the trunks of the trees.

Seteth stays at the edge of the blanket, “Is there anything I should be aware of?”

“Don’t run,” Felix says, tipping his head back to look up at Seteth with a sharp grin. The lack of response isn’t surprising so he shrugs, “If he comes near you, he probably just wants to smell you, so let him.” There’s not much he can say, so he adds, “No one’s ever bothered us during this, so it’ll be interesting.”

It gets him a hum and he watches Seteth find himself a perch on a particularly thick tree root breaking out of the ground, “How long have you two been doing this? Just the two of you?”

Felix turns his head, seeking Sylvain out, only catching a glimpse of red as he continues to circle, “Almost two years. It’s not so bad now that winter is passed.”

“Does it hurt him?”

The question makes him blink, startle as he looks to Seteth, “What makes you ask?”

Seteth is also watching Sylvain now, “That kind of transformation can’t be easy on the body.”

Felix hums, “He tries to play it off, but I think it does.”

“He can hear you,” Sylvain calls out suddenly, walking back into the small clearing they’ve situated themselves in. His eyes are larger somehow, more luminous, pupils huge. There’s a fine tremble running through him that means it’s close and Felix isn’t surprised when Sylvain comes to him, practically tries to sandwich him into the blanket in a bid to get close.

Running his hand over Sylvain’s back, Felix feels not unlike he has a lap full of a giant cat, “It’s not like you’ll answer,” he says and flicks Sylvain’s ear because he can, aware of Seteth watching them.

Sylvain butts up under his chin with his face, settles there, breathing against his throat.

“I’ve noticed,” Seteth starts, pauses like he’s waiting, but carries on when Sylvain seems not to react to his presence, “that his senses seemed to be getting stronger the closer to the moon we got,” he’s directing it to Felix again.

Like he’d predicted, Sylvain continues not to respond.

He cups the back of Sylvain’s skull, scrapes his nails through his hair, “Yeah, everything is a little more closer to the full moon,” that’s how Sylvain had described it, “and a little less for the few days after.”

“And what of the new moon?”

Felix wonders how much Seteth had looked into this beforehand, how much time he’d spent thinking about it. He wonders if anyone else would have bothered. In his lap, Sylvain starts purring. “He gets weird, quiet, a little clingy.”

Sylvain makes a quiet snarling sound and teeth set at his neck, but don’t bite down.

“You do, don’t argue with me,” Felix says mildly and the teeth retract.

Seteth hums and Felix is surprised he doesn’t have a journal with him, half expects to look over and find him scribbling away. He seems deep in thought though. Honestly, the longer they sit here, the less bothered by his presence Felix is, but only time will tell how Sylvain handles it.

Eventually, Sylvain pulls away and stands, starts pacing around the area, “Almost time,” he says, voice nothing but a low rumble and strips out of his shirt, tossing it to Felix.

“Anything else?” Felix asks Seteth.

“I think the rest of my questions will probably be answered soon,” Seteth says and Sylvain’s head cocks, but he nods. Telling the truth. It doesn’t go unnoticed though and Seteth laughs softly, “Useful trick.”

Sylvain grins.

Felix snorts softly.

Then Sylvain’s shoulders ripples and he makes a sound low in his throat.

“Pants,” Felix says, because Sylvain’s already ruined a few pairs in his distraction and it’s not as though he’s ever had much of a sense of modesty. Sylvain offers him a pained smirk, trying for cocky but missing by a mile as he shoves his pants off, tosses those at Felix as well.

He turns abruptly and disappears into the trees.

“Is it time then?” Seteth asks.

Felix hums.

And they wait.

The moon isn’t visible over the tops of the trees yet, but it’s not a particularly cloudy or dark night. Also it’s hard to miss a giant red wolf approaching, and yet Felix thinks that Seteth still sees him coming first, a quiet gasp coming from his right that he doesn’t think Seteth means to be heard.

Sylvain doesn’t even spare Seteth a glance, slinks right to him low to the ground. His ears are perked up though, so not upset.

“Ugh, come on then,” Felix says and opens his arms, does get bowled over by Sylvain this time, in this form, pinned to the blanket by a couple hundred pounds of wolf. He lets Sylvain shove all over him, wiggling and playful like a puppy all things considered.

He scratches his head, behind his ears then pushes at him, “All right, off, go run,” he commands.

It doesn’t take much more than that for Sylvain to lift up, but not before he gets a lick from his jaw up the side of his face, and then he disappears into the trees.

Seteth looks far too amused when Felix sits up, using Sylvain’s shirt to wipe his face off, “Is he always like this?”

Felix wobbles his hand in the air, “Away from his family’s land, mostly,” he says as Sylvain makes noisy loops of the area then comes bounding back towards them. This time he ventures near Seteth, sniffing carefully as he gets closer.

It’s interesting to watch as an outsider to this, the way Sylvain’s ears pin down as he ventures closer, a low sound rumbling from his large furry chest. For his part, Seteth seems unbothered, then offers a hand, wrist up. The sound kicks up a little, but diminishes when Sylvain presses his nose to Seteth’s wrist and inhales.

And that’s that, Sylvain withdraws, ears suddenly perking up and tears off into the forest with a low snarl, giving chase to something unfortunate enough to be within hearing distance.

“How aware is he like this?” Seteth asks, after Sylvain’s been gone for a while, when Felix has laid back out on the blanket, waiting for a sign of the moon over the trees.

Felix hums, “It seems to vary. I’m not really sure what it depends on. Sometimes he seems to understand me and sometimes it’s like talking to a wolf,” he explains, “but he’s never purposefully hurt me or anyone else.” That’s something important to Sylvain, a quiet secret confessed one post moon morning, the two of them a tangle of limbs in Felix’s bed in Fraldarius.

A howl cuts through the relative silence of the forest.

He wonders how far the sound travels, if they should worry about it, but Seteth seems unbothered. 

Not that any of this has seemed to bother him, perhaps that’s why he’s the one here with them. He seems like the staff member least likely to...

Well, it’s not as though they could send the Archbishop herself out.

Manuela is competent as a physician and sometimes as a professor, but not known for her secret keeping.

Hanneman would want to study Sylvain and Felix is certain it’d be frowned upon if he were to eviscerate a professor.

Jeritza would probably try to fight Sylvain in this form or stand by while something else tried.

Sylvain comes back to their clearing and promptly flops next to Felix on the blanket, panting and dripping wet. Scowling, Felix subjects himself to it, knowing already that if he rolls away, he’ll only be followed, “Enjoy a dip in a stream?” He gripes, “I’ll get you back for this.”

Seteth chuckles softly from his position, “Does he remember these things?”

Huffing, Felix throws an arm over his face, closes his eyes, “Not really, he says it’s all fuzzy, like an old dream.” There’s shuffling next to him on the blanket and then Sylvain’s head is on his belly, so Felix digs his fingers into his fur. It’s a good thing his fur doesn’t really have to be taken care of like this, he can’t imagine trying to untangle this mess would be pleasant for anyone.

It’s one of the last bleary thoughts he has before he drifts off, trusting Sylvain to wake him if something happens.

And, maybe, a little, trusting Seteth the same.

\-----

Felix wakes up too hot and very squished in his own room in the monastery. At least, he thinks it’s probably his room, he can’t do more than lift his head, because Sylvain is sprawled on top of him in nothing but a pair of smalls.

Pushing at Sylvain’s shoulder, he wiggles, trying to free himself.

“Mm, Fe, stop moving,” Sylvain slurs against his throat, sounding half drunk, and a wide palm tries to pat him on the head, but ends up practically smacking him in the face.

Felix jabs a finger against his ribcage.

Sylvain starts, jerks hard, and goes off the bed with a yelp and a tangle of long limbs. His head emerges from over the side, hair a mess, and they both freeze when someone bangs on the wall.

Dimitri’s voice carries through, “Could you two shut up?” And then a few beats later, “Please!”

They stare at each other for several more seconds, but Sylvain is the first to break, smothering his laughter into the blankets as he climbs back onto the bed, uncoordinated and coltish. Moon drunk, Felix calls it, the slightly delirious state that Sylvain gets in the hours after he shifts back.

He grabs onto Sylvain’s arm and tugs, sprawling him down on his back on the bed, “Shh,” he tells him and lays his cheek on Sylvain’s chest, throwing a leg over his, an arm over his middle. Sylvain falls quiet and it’s only once he’s settled that Sylvain’s arm wraps around his back and a hand tangles in his hair. The purring starts up shortly after that and Felix lets himself drift.

\-----

Seteth finds them in the dining hall, while Sylvain is doing his best impersonation of Caspar, much to Caspar’s apparent delight, and Felix is doing his best not to look at either of them too closely, least he lose his own appetite.

“Dude,” Caspar says—”Please, finish chewing,” Linhardt, from his other side—”_Dude_, how are you not like huge if you eat that much?”

And Sylvain, the goddess’s favorite idiot, says, “There are plenty of ways to work up an appetite.”

At the table behind them, a glass shatters and Felix sighs into his palm as he listens to Dimitri’s frantic apologies to his breakfast companions.

Neither Sylvain nor Caspar seem to notice, but Linhardt is squinting at Sylvain thoughtfully now, gaze sleepily drifting from Sylvain to him and back, “Rigorous training doesn’t seem much like your thing, Sylvain,” he says mildly.

Alarm bells ring in Felix’s head.

And that’s when Seteth intervenes finally, leaning forward, “I wanted to thank you two for your help last night, it was invaluable and I will be sure to remember it for future incidents.”

Felix scoffs and waves a hand, “It was amateur work.”

Sylvain, mouth full of jerky, nods hastily, “No sweat, you know where to find us,” and slings his arm over Felix’s shoulders, so Felix jabs him in the side again. It only makes him laugh though and he steals a biscuit off Felix’s plate as he withdraws back to himself.

“Indeed I do,” Seteth agrees with a final nod, before he leaves once more.

Linhardt is still looking at them curiously, but he yawns again and Felix thinks they’re probably safe for a while longer.

\-----

Two hours later, they’re in the training grounds. Felix is training, though not with his usual vigour, going through his paces more sedately while Sylvain lays in the sun and dozes in and out of consciousness. So far, no one has come to interrupt them, apparently busy with other plans on a Sunday morning.

But Sylvain lifts his head suddenly, focused on the doors, and Felix turns to watch them open.

Dimitri comes through and Sylvain sinks back to the ground. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, still unfailingly polite in a way that sets Felix’s teeth on edge.

“I have no claim to the training grounds,” he snaps, too aware of the fact that Sylvain is now very awake and paying attention. It’s not a big deal anyways, Sylvain’s been privy to most of his Dimitri related rants at this point, just like they’ve been privy to all of each other’s secrets since that night in the snow. He sighs and lowers his stance, “What do you want?”

“Fe,” Sylvain says, warningly.

It’s strangely reassuring. He might be the one that tethers Sylvain to his humanity, but he wonders if Sylvain realizes the same is true in reverse. Sylvain might turn into a wolf once a month, but he’s still Sylvain. Felix is the one that everyone jokes about tearing their throats out.

Dimitri looks between the two of them, his cheeks turning pink.

Oh goddess, here they go again.

“Out with it, boar,” Felix demands, startling when a hand touches his back because he hadn’t even noticed Sylvain moving.

Sylvain’s got that fake grin plastered on his face though, “Real sorry about this morning, Your Highness,” he says, his father’s son in a way that makes Felix’s stomach roll, “We were out late helping Seteth with some out of control wildlife outside the walls and I was too tired to take those last ten steps to my room and Felix is a terrible bed hog.”

Dimitri nods slowly, looking between the two of them again, “Oh, okay,” he says distantly, “I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll take my leave.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sylvain counters with false cheer, snagging Felix around the arm and tugging him away from the training grounds and, for once, Felix lets himself be led, even though Sylvain could very easily do it without any input from him.

“Where are we going?” Felix asks dully, when they stop suddenly and he nearly runs right into Sylvain’s back. Dealing with Dimitri wears him out now, makes him feel too big for his skin and also more irritable than he is on any other given day. The last bit is according to Sylvain and Felix has only started to realize in the last month of traveling and getting ready for the academy that his moods tend to affect Sylvain’s moods.

Not always in a good way either.

Sylvain’s head tips as he listens to something, before he starts tugging him up the stairs to the sauna, “I want a bath. Do you want a bath?”

Felix frowns at the back of his head, “Everyone thinks we’re together already and you want to—” he trails off with a scoff that he doesn’t quite feel. Honestly, it probably is better that everyone thinks they’re together, it’s a good cover for what’s going on. He’s still not sure how to bring that up with Sylvain though.

The sauna appears empty when they enter and Felix isn’t prepared for Sylvain to suddenly stop in the front, turning to look at him with his eyebrows drawn, “Is that so bad? That people might think we’d be together?”

What.

“What.”

Sylvain’s frown deepens and there’s red creeping up the back of his neck, “Look, I know I’m just a good for nothing flirt—”

Felix blinks, “What.”

“Would you stop saying that?” Sylvain bursts suddenly with a low growl in his chest that kicks Felix right in the gut and the chest. “Oh, fuck, Fe, I’m—” Sylvain paces away from him, shoving a hand through his hair, clearly aggitated.

Felix feels several steps behind, “Sylvain, what’s going on?”

The pause drags long between them as Sylvain paces around then stops suddenly right in front of him again, hunching on himself to press his face into Felix’s shoulder, his words muffled against Felix’s shirt, “My father sent a letter.”

“Oh,” he grimaces and wraps his arms around Sylvain’s shoulders, rubs his palm down the curve of his back, “I’m taking it he’s not pleased about something already.” As if he ever is, Felix adds in his head, but Sylvain probably hears that anyways because he snorts.

Sylvain turns his face and tucks it against Felix’s throat instead, inhaling there, his shoulders shaking with it, “He said that keeping the family secret should not have to come at the cost of the family reputation.”

Felix snarls quietly, “I hate him,” he says, feeling a little helpless.

“Me too,” Sylvain echoes, sounding very tired.

Nudging Sylvain, he starts leading them in a weird shuffle towards the baths, “Well, you want to know what I think?”

“Always.”

Felix hums his quiet approval, taking them to one of the smaller baths to the back, it’s not as though modesty is a concept either of them have to be concerned with any longer, “I think that your father is very far away and getting very old,” he explains, which makes Sylvain huff out a strangled laugh, “and that you’re an adult and he can mind his own damn business since he saddled you with all of this and then insisted you come here.”

It’s not the best solution, not even a good one really, because he knows how Sylvain feels the weight of his family obligations, but it makes Sylvain stop hiding, lift his face and smile. His dry lips press to Felix’s forehead, “Thanks, Fe.”

“Mm,” Felix nudges him in the stomach, “Come on, you still smell like wet dog.”

Sylvain’s laugh echoes off the walls and Felix hides his smile as he drags his shirt over his head.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @vowofenmity


End file.
